Never Too Late
by VellumScribe
Summary: work in progress, but the occurences during the Golden Trio and Dracos seventh year. HgDm and more pairings to come. Rating for furture content.
1. Ink

**Disclaimer: I don't own this, if you don't get that then you are dumb.**

AN: hey kids, i deleted all my bad old stuff and am starting over, feel free to leave some input if you like, or rather if you don't like. thankee much.

Chapter One

**Ink**

When she dances she becomes someone else. No one can touch her, stop her, _be_ her. It's her only freedom, escape. They refer to her as the_ Waif_. Main reason being her slight form, but also the way she moved. She moved like a silk kerchief, dancing, twisting, bending like the wind. Pure motion. Not at all the awkward girl she was known as at school.

School, the torturous bliss she endured and cherished, the place where she was known but not regarded, where she was befriended not beloved.

It was the week before school was to start, and the last day she would have at home before she went to the burrow, her last few hours before she was no longer the _Waif_, her last bit of tantric luxury. It's never too late to feel the beat and pusling music that defines the soul, at least that's what she tells herself, it took her fifteen years to figure that out, and this last moment before her seventh year was the most bittersweet. She would never get to come back alone now.

Ron and Harry hadn't ever really wanted to send her home after the first year, they knew she was unhappy at home, had her stay at the burrow whenever they could. Yet, after she turned fifteen she would try to make up any excuse to stay at home, not go, not leave her world of wispered fame. Hermione couldn't just tell them, wanting to stay home and dance isn't exactly the most sane of ideas with an unstable father and a now deceased mother.

Hermione never drank and danced, and since she was always dancing, she never drank. She wanted to remember and savor every moment, to remember every face that watched her, every person whose eye she captured. And yet. Tonight was special, and there are always exceptions. So Hermione drank.

"Hey, Amir, absinthe over here. Please and thanks." Hermione stated.

"Anything for the _Waif. _It's free." Amir said as he slid it across the bar to her. He had always offered Hermione drinks when she came to Ink, but she had never taken him up on his offer. He had kindly overlooked her inability to provide ID, as had the bouncers, her underground identity was all they had ever needed.

"Cheers" she said to herself, and then downed the suspiciously radioactive colored liquid. _Wow_, she thought, _now i know why they say not to let it touch your tongue._

With that she made her way out onto the floor, twisting lithely around the countless other bodies who looked at her with glazed and desirous eyes, the colors streaming and melting away in seamless beauty. Only for an instance was she distinguishable from the throng, but in the blink of an eye she melded in more fluidly than liquid mercury.

"5" the music was still pounding "4" the beats skipped and then reconnected "3" just a bit more "2" the crowd began to vacate the center of the floor "1. Ah, right on time." Precisely upon his count, Hermione, the _Waif_, began to dance like she was known to, defying logic and reason in her ability to move as she did. Where she had learned it no one knew, but this male, who had watched her everytime she came into Ink wondered. Wondered as so many did, but he knew precisely how to throw her off, which was more than anyone else knew.

So in one smooth motion he stood and slipped through the crowd with ease making his way to join the _Waif_. A few had tried to dance with her before, always too slow and too uncoordinated to keep up. Too stupid in their movements. That was about to change. Drastically. At least this testosterone driven youth thought so.

With resoulute certainty he slid behind her and followed her movements, barely inches from her, yet never once touching or missing a beat. Had it not been for his breath on the back of her neck, and his hands flowing past hers, she would never had known he was there at all.

_Amazing_, she thought, _he's keeping up... Not for long._ And so Hermione sped up, and began to twist and turn in ways most people would think unhuman.

This particular male kept up though, anticipating her speed change, he broke free and began to dance on his own, just praying that she would turn and face him. That she would see him and falter, as he knew she would.

And she did, though she didn't falter as he had hoped for. Rather she smiled smugly as suprise showed in his eyes.

"Oh come now Draco," She purred as she continued to move, "You couldn't have really thought I didn't know it was you, did you?" That's when Draco Malfoy, evil or all evils, the unsurpasable Slytherin, faltered, and fell.

With that the crowd cheered and engulfed the floor once more. Their champion had once again proved her worth, and they had to celebrate. The _Waif _was flawless yet again.

Upon righting himself Draco realized Hermione had vanished. "Damn her," he muttered as he made for the door, "Damn her."

AN: that's it for now, more soon.


	2. Reunions

**Disclaimer: Still don't own HP and I doubt I ever will**

AN: a few reviews would be spiffy, but I will update every so often regardless :D

**Reuinion**

Hermione sighed in relief as she silently slid into her room. She had managed to avoid her father, who was, no doubt, drunk as a skunk and angry again. Once Hermiones mother had died her father was apt to drink heavily and prone to fit of rage often directed at Hermione for no other reason than that she was there.

Thankfully though, tonight she would not have to fear his wrath.

With this thought in her mind Hermione slid pleasantly into sleep for she knew the next morning she would get to see her two best friends, and though her chapter in the club life was over, she had ended on a impressive enough note for it to be a perfect time to end.

"Hermione?" A voice said uncertaintly.

"Whaa?" Was all she could manage, she wanted to go back sleep, and communicated this by turning over and tossing a pillow towards where she though the voice had come from.

"Well hello to you too sleepyhead," chimed in another male, which, after a moments consideration, Hermione recognized as Rons voice.

"It's too early to leave. I'm still tired, you should be too. Go away." _Apparantly absinthe can give you a pretty nasty headache _thought Hermione.

"It's three in the afternoon 'Mione. You were supposed to come over at eleven in the morning, mum is going nutters." Ron stated in a mildly confused voice. This was too unlike Hermione.

"Shhhhit. Hand me that black box over there then." The box was promptly handed to Hermione who opened it, extracted a vial, and downed it in one smooth motion. Her mind cleared. "That's better then. Lemme get changed and I'll be good to go. Whhhat?"

Ron and Harry had both begun to gt the oddest expressions when she was putting away the box and getting her clothes to change into.

"Umm, Hermione, who owns those clothes?" Harry asked uncomfortably.

"And what did you do to your hair? And why are you wearing make-up?" Chirped Ron.

"Oh. Um... Well the clothes are mine Harry, and I straightened it Ron, and I like the make-up most days." With that she sped into her bathroom to change quickly.

Hermione hadn't realized she was still dressed in the garb she liked to wear at clubs. This currently consisted of deep black cigarrette jeans and a deep green backless top which was just barely decent to be public in. _So much for keeping things a secret _she thought. Her eye make-up matched her top, and though it wasn't dramatic, Hermione had never worn make-up in front of the guys except at the Yule Ball, so it was a very different sight. The most unbelievable thing was her hair though, she had it chemically straightened with holding spells to make it last even longer, so now it was long and manageable.

Quickly she changed into a plain t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts, tossing her club clothes in the hamper and brushing her hair with haste. She then fixed her make-up and put it in her trunk before Ron and Harry could see what she was putting in it.

"Ok," Hermione said, "I'm ready, let's go."

"C'mon then, we took the car." Said Ron, then realizing the look Hermione gave him added, "With permission of course."

With that Ron picked up Hermiones trunk and Harry picked up Hermione and they both carried their loads all the way to the car. Though Harry had a few more bruises than Ron did by the end of the journey.

Hermiones father had been absent for this enitre exchange, and led Hermione to wonder who had let them in, but she figured that was a question better not to ask.

With one final glance at her house, for it could not accurately be called a home, they were off to her home. The Burrow. It was going to be a good summer ending, even without the clubs.

_Bye Dad, _she thought, _good luck with whatever you're going to do now._

AN: review and be beloved


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